Forgotten Years
by Elemnestra Aethelflaeda
Summary: An old book, 'Forgotten Years', comes into Inara's hands. Reading it, she discovers what the War of Independence really was, and what actually happened during that time. Terrible summary, but... R&R, please
1. Prologue

**A/N: This is another story, and I have no idea whether I'll go on with it or not. I've got some ideas, but they're very vague... If you think I should keep going, they review and tell me, cos I probably won't unless someone says I should. I only thought this up cos a pretty sad oneshot came into my head, and I had to do something a bit happier to balance it out.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the plot. And my OCs. But besides that, nothing.**

_**Forgotten Years**_

_**Prologue**_

Inara, freed from school due to a public holiday, was surfing the Cortex. Day after day, she was continually surprised at the good, bad, and just plain weird stuff to be found there. Occasionally she could even find something vaguely related to her objective. Her objective being anything to do with other planets, or moons, or spaceships, or adventure, or, put simply, the black. Anything different from her routine, boring life. Unlikely that anything unrelated to the Core worlds could be found, but then everything can be found in the Cortex somewhere. And if anyone could find it, it was Inara. After years of searching and browsing the Cortex, she was an expert. After all, everything will be found somewhere. And you can't stop the signal.

Her eyes drifted up to where those same words were written above her bed, on a large piece of cloth. That phrase had been with her family a long time. Nearly as long as her own name. Inara. How she hated that name, calling it 'old-fashioned', and 'ridiculous'. Her parents said that it had 'history'. Maybe that's why she never liked the subject at school, she figured. Although, she admitted privately, the reason for that was more likely to be the teacher.

Re-absorbing herself into the labyrinths of the Cortex, Inara became lost to the world. That is, until her best friend Davy barged into her room. Actually, make that _ex_-best friend until he explains himself. Explains himself _well_.

'What the hell are you doing here? Haven't I told a million times not to barge in, and to call or _at least knock_, before coming in?!' Inara screamed at him. Although, she said to herself, screaming was probably going a bit far.

'Sorry, didn't know you were having your crazy time,' Davy grinned back, not fazed in the least. 'Never would have come if I did. Oh, and by the way, I did call. And knock. Well, I called anyway. At least half a dozen times, actually. You didn't answer, so I assumed you were doing exactly what you are doing. Surfing the Cortex.' he finished.

'Fine. Alright. So you have a reasonable explanation. I'll quit yelling at you. But...why are you here? Don't you prefer to be outside on a sunny day, as you've told me hundreds of times?' she paused, and added 'I assume you do have a reason, and didn't just get bored and decide to come see me. Right?'

'Don't worry, I got a reason. Although I could have just come to see you, if you'd like.' he said with a cheeky grin. 'But yeah. I actually came to lend you a book.'

'Uh...did I ask to borrow a gorram book? Cos if I did, I don't recall the incident. And I think that I would remember such an incident.'

'So would I, it's that rare. But no, you didn't. I'm gonna lend this to you entirely of my own accord. Yes, yes, I know you dislike books,' he said rapidly to prevent Inara interrupting, but unable to block out her 'Well, yeah, when'd ya figure _that_ one out?' Davy went on 'But _this_ is a good book. You'll _like_ this book. Really, you will.'

He sounded so earnest that Inara just _knew_ there had to be a catch. "What's it about? No, don't give me that look. I demand to be told what that _go se_ book of yours is about before I say anything that could even loosely fit the definition of agreeing to read it. What's it about?'

'Well...itabouthistory...' At a pointed cough from his friend, he grudgingly repeated 'It's about history. Events which took place in the past,' quickly slamming his over his ears.

'What the hell do you mean by trying to get me to read a gorram book filled with gorram history?! You _know_ I hate history! Or at least you ought to, as I've only been telling you so repeatedly for the last five gorram years!' She took a deep breath, and began to go on with her spiel before Davy hastily interrupted her.

'No, no, I swear to you, you'll like it. It's, it's got battles, and, er, guns, and spaceships, and, and everything that you like,' he babbled. Then, gaining confidence from her continued silence, went on 'It's all about the black, and the stuff in it didn't happen all _that_ long ago. Only the 26th century. And besides, there's a guy with your last name in it. You know, Reynolds.' He stopped, triumphant.

'Really? You mean the name actually did come from someone people know?' Ignoring the fact that the last sentence of hers didn't make all that much sense, she kept going with her questions. 'So...do you really, honestly think that I'd like this book? And wouldn't just be wasting my time reading it?'

'Yeah, sure you'd like it. Haven't I been telling you so all along?'

'Alright, I'll try it. Just to keep you happy. Cos I know you'll look at me weird for the next month if I don't, and I don't think I could stand that,' Inara slowly said, joking, but also actually agreeing to read the book.

Inara stretched her arm out, reaching for the book Davy had kept hidden behind his back all this time. _Forgotten Years_, the title read, _by Captain Jonathon Jones_. Flipping through the book, which looked fairly old to Inara's eyes, she saw pictures of all sorts of spaceships, and guns, and war memorials. So maybe it would be an interesting read, she quietly thought. Closing the book, she said out loud 'Okay, okay. I'll read it. Now, shoo. If I'm gonna read it, I'd prefer not to have someone looking over my shoulder the whole time. Go have a drink with everyone else. They'll probably be down at the nearest pub, hoping their parents don't know they're there.'

'As you command, your highness. I was gonna go down there anyway, actually, just came to drop this off first. I know you too well to think I wouldn't be able to convince you to try something new,' he grinned, and walked out the door. After a couple of seconds, he stuck he head back round the corner, saying 'Anyway, the book fits in with the spirit of today's public holiday. Speaking of which, there'll be fireworks tonight, if you wanna come. Celebrating Independence Day. Seeya.'

Inara barely heard him, as she settled down on her bed with _Forgotten Years_, two words only penetrating her thoughts. _Independence Day_. Yes, her parents were Independents through and through. Since forever. Setting that aside, she opened her new-found occupation to the introduction.

**So, do you like it? Please review, even if you think it's terrible. Seeya, **

**Elemnestra**


	2. Introduction

**A/N: So yeah, I decided to keep writing this - at least until my brain decides to stop providing me with ideas. Sorry about the wait. I'm not exactly what you'd call punctual when it comes to updating my stories. Sorry.  
****Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. And Captain Jones. And yes, I have been watching PotC recently.**

_**Introduction**_

This all started, the making of this book that is, not so long ago. Well, by the time you're reading this, it would have been quite some time ago. But for me, not so long. I was at an annual family reunion, around two years ago now. I was sitting in my chair by the fire, warming my old bones, and the conversation at the table had swung around to the War of Independence. I was staring into the flames, lost in memories; when I felt a tug on my sleeve, and heard one of my granddaughters say something. I hadn't heard her clearly, turned to face her, lifting her up to sit in my lap, and asked her to repeat her question. 'Grandpa?' she said 'What's the War of Independence?'

That shook me, when she said that, I have to admit it. The War went on for much of my youth, the build-up, and then the fighting. Then the aftermath. Most of my generation were born into a time of war, and never left it. It's only this new, youngest generation that don't know about the War, that haven't been involved in it in one way or another. And too many of these don't bother to ask questions, to learn from history and the mistakes we made.

I told my granddaughter the basics of the War as I knew them – leaving out all the deaths – and got out of there as fast as I could. Getting out of the duty of explaining the War was relatively easy – I announced to the room in general that I needed a rest, and was going to my room – compared to getting away from the feeling that these kids should know about the War other than as a lesson in the classroom. And the fact that there were more and more people in the 'verse now who didn't know about the War kept niggling at me. Wouldn't go away, no matter what I did. It didn't improve my temper, I have to say. It was my eldest son, and his wife, who finally found out the reason behind my temper, and suggested a solution. Whether they actually meant for me to write a book, or were just humouring an old man, I don't know. And I won't ask, either.

To tell the truth, I never expected to write a book – much less about the War of Independence. Although I guess I wouldn't have the imagination for fiction. Nor, strictly speaking, do I have the patience for writing. I'm more of a hands-on, practical sort of guy – the sort of guy who prefers to be out doing something than sitting around in doors. Or at least I was before I became old. But if I had ever imagined myself writing a book, no, it wouldn't be about the War.

Not that the subject matter wasn't – isn't – important, but that there were quite probably better people for the job than me. Who knew the bigger picture – what was strategically important, _why_ we had to do certain things, the reasons behind everything. But, it has to be said, those other writers didn't know what it was like to actually be there. In the thick of it, being shot at, seeing men die right beside you. What it was like to be in the midst of all that pain, and grief, and death. But those other men, the historians, and authors – they'd be able to write about it, and write about it well.

But I'm getting off track. Other books have been written about the War, many of them very good, others not so much. But whether or not I happen to be the right man to write this book, I am writing it. It's up to you if you want to read it or not.

This book isn't going to be about why certain things happened; it won't have dates, most of it; it won't say what was happening with the High Command. But it will have the truth. It will have what the common soldiers suffered, what the ordinary people went through during those years. If you don't want to know, if you'd prefer to believe whatever propaganda the government is telling everyone, so be it.

This book will contain stories you may not want to listen to; it will have death, and pain, and grief. But if just one person reads this book from beginning through to end, and listens to my story and that of others, then I will be satisfied. If just one person out there in the universe listens to what an old man has to say, if I have told just one person what the years of war meant... So, read on, and learn about the years of war, of the past, those years which will soon be forgotten once all those who fought in them are gone.

Capt. Jonathan Jones

**A/N: So, did you like it? Whether you did or not, review. Please. I didn't particularly like this chapter myself, but whatever. It ought to get better once the actual story-story starts. And no, that doesn't make sense. Well, it vaguely does. Anyway, I'll stop talking now, before I bore everyone to death.  
'til next time,  
Elemnestra**


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